Playing God
by xlise
Summary: A 30-Word Prompt challenge. Various characters/various themes/various ratings. Prompt One: LIVELY - In which Sten finds Alistair's liveliness excruciatingly bothersome.
1. LIVELY

In which Lise rises from the ashes of fanfiction inactivity!

I decided I ought to do something fabulous for being gone for so long... Something that didn't include actually updating the stories that ought to be updated. Aren't I brill? No but really, I was going to do something awesome and instead you get this. 8D This is my first "published" Dragon Age fan fiction... Word prompt... Thing, so be easy, won't you? My self-esteem bar is already low as it is. :'D

Anyway, this is going to be a 30 word prompt. As in, thirty different chapters. Maybe. I haven't decided if I'm going to combine some or not. These chapters/prompts will include various pairings of varying ratings, so be forewarned! I'll alert you of the rating before the chapter begins. There will be original characters to, because I am so good at that and I don't have to worry about being out of character with them.

This chapter in particular does not have any original characters except for the Warden, who is in the particular fanfiction will be the human noble origin. Her name/etc will be explained later. Too lazy now. However, I apologize in advance for any ooc-ness that you might experience while reading this chapter; one, Sten is a bitch to analyze and get down in character writing because I'm bad at it, and two because I just love how Alistair is kind of like a puppy.

Also brief question before the chapter actually begins; does anyone know anything at all about the Qunari religion? Or if they have one? I imagine if anyone mentioned the maker to them they'd say something along the lines of "What? This is not logical stop talking to me does not compute you are stupid" only far more articulately than I just put. /8

This story is kind of un-beta'd. I read it a few times before posting it... Forgive any grammatical/spelling errors? ;w;

So I hope you enjoy the beginning of this perilous journey called the 30-Word Prompt. (: Review if you like, or send me a message - feedback makes my heart glow!

Rating: T. (Sten has mild violent thoughts about Alistair, nothing strange.)

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><p>001. LIVELY<p>

_In which Sten finds Alistair's liveliness excruciatingly bothersome._

Sten had never been one for talking much. Well, you know how that goes; when you're a practically a giant in the face of the rest of the people in camp, it usually doesn't make you viable for a striking conversation. Which he is perfectly fine with, by the by. He is a solitary creature. He is prone to be to being quiet, speaking only when required to, and trimming the edges of necessity to the barest minimum.

But Alistair - Alistair is not a solitary creature. Alistair is a _social butterfly_. He likes to think he is not; he likes to think he is awkward socially, but it is exactly this awkwardness that makes him so prone to talking when he really shouldn't be talking. Maybe that's just Sten's point of view - the only other person in camp who really seems to mind Alistair's chatter and less-than-amusing remarks is Morrigan, and since she pretty much dislikes everything about everyone anyway, Sten doesn't think this matters much.

When it comes to conversation, both Sten and Alistair are awkward in their own right. Alistair's is a charming sort of awkward. Sten's is the "if you don't start shutting up soon, I'm going to snap your bones in half" kind of awkward. Talking is a requirement, but not an enjoyable one.

So you can imagine, then, his great chagrin when the Warden pairs him with Alistair for the night watch one evening.

"This is unreasonable," he tells her, because he silently thinks _if you would just pair me with_ anyone _else, I wouldn't have to have this conversation_. But the Warden just takes a breath and then exhales in an orderly fashion, which indicates that the conversation is over before it even really started. Under normal circumstances, Sten would have almost been relieved - but this conversation is the only one he is keen on finishing.

She walks away before he can protest more. He is stuck with Alistair for a night.

At first, things are alright; the intimidation that Sten seems to ooze from his pores is enough to keep Alistair quiet. But as the night wears on, the young Warden begins to get more comfortable, and then approaches the heinous task of striking up a conversation with the otherwise silent Qunari.

"Do you think that the Darkspawn are clever enough to wait?" He asks after a while. "I mean, think about it - they're in these forests, aren't they? And we're not that hard to locate. Strategically, our camp isn't placed at the most brilliant spot. If there were enough of them, wouldn't they just attack us?"

"I don't know," Sten replies. "You're asking me to explain the behavior of a pestilence?"

Alistair laughs, clearly not bothered by the dry and brittle tone in which Sten is speaking - again, under normal circumstances, this would have been a clear warning sign to _shut up_, but unfortunately Alistair is too wrapped up in his thoughts to notice.

"You know, you're actually quite witty, Sten! I wouldn't have pegged you as the humorous type - more like the, ah, killing type? Please stop looking at me like that - but it's good to see you have a funny side."

More like the "_I'm going to strangle you before the night is up_" type, Sten thinks, and he knows this is going to be the longest night of his life.

Dawn creeps over the sky within hours. The _longest damned hours Sten has ever experienced_, but hours nonetheless. They felt like ages. Alistair only seemed to get more chatty as the night ensued, and his patience was just beginning to wear thin when the blonde says, "Look, dawn! Time to wake everyone up!"

Sten sends thanks to no one in particular. He stands and is eternally grateful for his boundless patience that night - though many times he debated stuffing Alistair's mouth full of weeds to shut him up - and instead manages to give Alistair a nod to indicate that their conversation is finished.

"How did it go?" the Warden asks, her brow arched delicately as she looks between them. Alistair answers for the both of them.

"Excellently! Sten and I should be paired for night watches more often, I think."

Sten looks at the Warden. She regards him warily.

"Please don't," is all he offers in explanation, and Alistair might have looked crushed if he wasn't so perplexed.

"But I thought we were getting along?"


	2. REMORSEFUL

So here's the second prompt! I hope this turned out okay - I had a lot of fun writing it, but I don't know, there's probably (again) ooc-ness. (: Got a problem with it? Don't read. This is meant to be humorous/entertaining! Drop a review/favorite/alert if you liked!

This Author's Note is short because it's 12:04 AM and I can't really think about as much to talk about as I did in the first chapter. u8 Sorry.

Oh! Dragon Age doesn't belong to me. If it did, all of this would have happened. All the time.

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><p>002. REMORSEFUL<p>

_In which Morrigan almost experiences remorse for the first time in her life._

Sometimes, Morrigan likes to include herself in the petty lives of her fellow party-mates. _Sometimes_. A lot of the time, she prefers to keep herself above them - not because she thinks she is better, but because she knows she is better. While they have their manners and sophistication, Morrigan is born with refinement; and she is more often than naught far too refined to dawdle in the subtleties of mockery.

But there are instances in which she just cannot resist herself.

Alistair, for example, is prime real estate for biting comments. He may not look like it at first, no; he may seem innocent, dashing good looks and a pretty voice to boot, but he manages to have a serious case of foot-in-mouth disease - daily. Especially around the other Warden. She, meanwhile, seems unimpressed with Alistair's ability to both dig his own grave and humiliate himself at the same time. Sten, too, finds this lacking; but then, Sten finds everything lacking, so Morrigan supposes he doesn't count much in this sort of thing.

On a particularly sunny morning, as the four of them trudge through the woods - the Warden, Alistair, Sten, and herself - Morrigan finds that she and Sten have become spectators in a surprisingly amusing little drama between the two Wardens. She's not sure precisely what started it, because she doesn't lower herself so much as to go snooping like that, but what she is aware of is that the Warden is ignoring Alistair and Alistair can't stand it.

"Aislinn, don't you think you're being a little unreasonable?" he whines (he claims it isn't whining, but everyone knows it is), and Morrigan glances over at Sten as he visibly cringes. Even Sten, who radiates testosterone from every inch of him, is physically injured by the tone in which Alistair is speaking. Aislinn is still dutifully ignoring Alistair, bless her little heart, and slashing through the underbrush of the forest with a great amount of ferocity.

"Oh, _I_ see, then. You're just going to ignore me forever? That's brill. Very _mature_ of you," Alistair snorts, following after her path of destruction. Morrigan sees Aislinn's fingers twitch on the hilt of her blade, as if she might want to thrust it through Alistair's throat, but she picks up her pace and begins going at the underbrush again.

"Alistair, I hope you realize that you're speaking at a frequency of which only dogs and mosquitoes can understand you," Morrigan slides in as casually as she always does. "Perhaps the reason she is ignoring you is because the way you are so _maturely_ whining is causing her ears to bleed with hate."

"Why are we discussing this now?" Sten breaks in before Alistair can say anything, and Alistair gives Morrigan a dirty look. "There are things to be done. Locating this group of Darkspawn, for example."

"Look at Sten, always the voice of reason," Morrigan needles. "When is he not?"

"Morrigan, is it possible for you to, I don't know, not be a _total bitch_ for five minutes?" Alistair poses the question nonchalantly, and Morrigan's eyes flash.

"I'm sorry, Alistair, I cannot understand you over your ridiculous hair."

"Alistair is not the one wearing feathers," Sten mutters flatly.

"Morrigan is insulting my hair again! Aislinn? Oh, come on, stop ignoring me!"

It is at this point that Morrigan finds out she is not really on top as she thinks - because then Aislinn turns around and her eyes are narrowed into tiny slits and suddenly she feels almost remorseful for having started something.

"What are you two? Five year olds?" She is clearly trying her hardest not to end their lives in some gory fashion, and for the first time since their patrol set out, everyone is quiet.

"I would like to point out that she started it." Alistair breaks the silence to indicate Morrigan, and the witch is just about to wrap her fingers around his skinny throat when Aislinn sheathes her sword - a movement which is more threatening than someone might think. She crosses her arms over her chest and looks at all three of them (well, just the two of them, as Sten can't really be bothered by her look), her eyes narrowed and her brow furrowed.

Morrigan and Alistair exchange glances. For the first time, they are on the same side.

"Have I mentioned you look lovely today?" Alistair offers to the now very-angry Aislinn.

The gesture isn't very effective. Morrigan doesn't say anything - her pride won't allow her to - but she is secretly hoping that the charm Alistair possesses (the kind that a small puppy would have) will be enough to soften the wrath of their unspoken leader.

"M-My, you do look cross with me," Alistair continues meekly, and after a few moments, Aislinn pulls out her sword again, turns, and then just like that they are all moving forward again.

"This is all your fault," Alistair hisses to Morrigan under his breath, foolishly believing that Aislinn won't hear him. Morrigan flares up.

"Why you-!"

"Don't make me _turn this patrol around_!"


	3. DISMISS

Can I just say now that I love an insecure Alistair? Not only is it entirely amusing and adorable, but also provides an enjoyable writing experience.

Yes; this chapter does hint at the very not-original F!Cousland/Alistair. You know why? Because I like that pairing. I also don't trust myself to write any other pairing with Alistair comfortably. So. /8

I wanted to thank everyone for their reviews, too! I've been getting some lovely feedback and. ;w; Makes me so happy. Aside from the awkwardness that is Aislinn and Alistair, I'd like to hear what other pairings you guys might want to read in the future? Not sure if I can write them but hey. 8D I will definitely give them a shot.

Also Zevran = y/n? I personally love Zev (even if he is a bit of a scoundrel) but am not good at sexual inneundos, so it'd be nice to know if you guys want him included in future prompts?

I noticed I've sort of failed at putting the rating up. u8 So I'm going to be better from now on. Promise!

Anyway, this is the third prompt... Only twenty-seven more to go! Woo!

Again, does not own Dragon Age. Sad days.

Rating: T (for that little comment Zev makes, of course).

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><p>003. DISMISS<p>

_In which Alistair expresses his feelings of inadequacy to the Warden._

It's not as if he's _not_ good enough. It's just that sometimes he feels... less.

Alistair is a decent man. He is well-rounded, virtuous, a gentleman; he fights well and he is entirely loyal. But when in comparison to the other men in the camp, it just feels as if he's not quite up to par. As he sits in camp that late night, beside the fire like he normally is, he can't help but feel as if he is easily dismissed among the other men.

There is Zevran, who is like a walking vending machine of clever (and perverse) innuendos he does not mind using on Aislinn. Alistair finds this extremely threatening. Not only is he pretty sure he has already made it clear that Aislinn is not interested - because she refuses to do it verbally, he has taken it upon himself to spell the warning out loud and clear - but Zevran's charm does not seem to be affected in the very least by this. Whenever Alistair comments on it, such as, "Why don't you just not talk for a while?" Zevran will get that little coy smirk on his face and say something along the lines of, "Why? Are you threatened by the inevitable fact that the Warden and I are destined to share a bed?"

Not that Zevran really means it, of course. Aislinn will look back at them and admonish him with a sharp "Zev", which is enough to at least soothe Alistair for a while. But it still bothers Alistair that he is so comfortable with just - just doing stuff like that. Because even Alistair can see that Zev oozes charm from every inch of his spindly elf body (spindly isn't _that_ attractive, you know), and should the Warden be willing enough, he's sure that she could be charmed.

And then there is Sten, who (as mentioned before) is the epitome of manliness. He doesn't brag, or boast, but just _is_; and this is exactly the kind of attitude that Alistair imagines gets women in Ferelden swooning over him (if they haven't fainted from sheer fright at the sight of him, of course). He is exactly the kind of man who will easily cut any other man's confidence into half - and Alistair is no exception. At least Sten doesn't try to make moves on Aislinn, though; that is a comforting thought, if not one to nurse his wounded male ego.

Alistair doesn't really compare himself to Oghren. (In his opinion, there isn't much to compare _to_, so Oghren will just have to deal with that.)

"Aislinn?" he asks, looking up from the fire. She has been sitting beside him, cleaning her armor for the night, blonde hair pulled to one side to keep it out of the way. Briefly she glances up at him, but never once does she stray from her task.

"Yes, Alistair?" she replies briskly, cleaning and cleaning (as if trying to give Alistair the hint that he should be doing the same - but he doesn't get it, just keeps sitting).

"Do you think I'm... adequate?"

This is enough to get Aislinn to pause in her momentous task, and she sets her rag down and looks at him, green eyes all sorts of bewildered.

"_What?_"

"W-Well, it's just -" Alistair scrambles to try and keep himself cool and composed, but he really just wants her to answer the question. Really, really badly.

"Are you _adequate_? What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, Maker," he sighs, rubbing his face with his hands. "I've just opened up a world of embarrassing moments that someday I will laugh about but right now will only succeed in crushing what little ego I have."

Aislinn sighs now, too, and then after a minute, awkwardly goes back to cleaning her armor. They are both silent, with Alistair regarding her warily, and Aislinn not daring to look at him.

"Listen, Alistair..." She starts, and then stops to inhale. "Is this about what Zevran says? You don't have to worry about that. I'm not easily swayed."

He knows she isn't, but he can remember when Zevran used the "sex-goddess" line and she didn't show it but he could tell she was flattered.

"I know," he replies, clearly trying to get his point across. "It's just sometimes I think about how I am in perspective to the other men and..."

When he trails off, Aislinn looks at him, giving another little sigh (this conversation has seemed to make her do that a lot) and rests her cheek in her hand, elbow on her knee.

"Alistair," she begins very carefully, "you are perfectly... manly. And just as adequate as anyone else. Alright?"

Her words makes him warm a little bit, and he gives her a cheeky smile.

"Alright. Say, you think I could pull off the lines Zev uses?"

"Please don't."


	4. HEAVY

So here's the fourth prompt. This is one is a little bit more serious that the others - okay, that was a lie, it's way more serious. u8 But it ends kind of happy, too? So idk if you don't like sadness then don't read it, but I'd wish you would!

Again, this is Alistair/Aislinn-centric, based mostly around her own guilt (leaving her parents, not looking for her brother, etc). The idea for this chapter was inspired by the song "Heavy Heart" by You Am I (go check it out!). Also a little bit of Alistair/Zevran friendship if you squint and tilt your head.

Um, don't have much to say about this chapter, except that I fail at writing sadness/seriousness and Aislinn is kind of a bitch. Will soon be returning to humor. cx

Oh, started playing Dragon Age II again today. (Yeah, I got bored with it.) Uh, what the hell? First Six Hours = Running and making money so I can make more money to become a noble? Does not compute. )8

Anyway, just thought I'd throw that out there. Thanks to all the reviewers, and enjoy!

Rating: T (kind of heavy themes idk?).

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><p>004. HEAVY<p>

_In which the weight of the Warden's heart becomes apparent._

A lot of the time, Alistair cannot understand Aislinn; she is a close-lipped, fifty thousand page book that would take years to read. He is willing to give the effort, to take the time to understand her, of course. But at this point, facing the threat of the Blight and all that, he just doesn't _have_ the time. He wants to understand. He wants to share in her joys, and her sorrows. But she won't let him.

Aislinn thinks it is a weakness. She doesn't let Alistair - or anyone - see past her carefully manicured facade because it is just _better_ that they see her as the eternally invincible and strong leader. She, as the unspoken hero, has made it her duty to reveal nothing of the turmoil going on inside of her.

But she can see the way that Alistair looks at her; she can feel the way his heart is reaching out to hers, but she pushes him away because it is safer - for everyone. And really, Alistair wouldn't mind so much if she was always proud and strong and fierce; but he sees her break on the inside, sometimes, and it's enough to make him concerned.

Night times are the hardest for her. Aislinn will retire to her tent after her duties are done and lay down, and when she closes her eyes is when she suddenly become vulnerable to the guilt. During the day, the guilt is a dormant beast in slumber; and at night, she is suddenly not busy anymore, and the beast awakens to claw at her insides, trying to get out but she won't let it.

She wants to cry, but she can't. She has to be strong.

So, instead of crying, she talks. She whispers to no one in particular, and as the nights wear on and her sleep lessens she sometimes talks to her brother. _I hope you are safe. I don't know what I'm going to do without you. Please come back to me, I hate being alone._

The talking deepens. _It's all my fault. I should have stayed. I killed our parents. Maybe I even killed you._

Alistair hears her at night and it breaks his heart. He wants to confront her about it in the morning - but she just looks at him, and when she does he knows that there is an invisible line he is about to cross and she is warning him not to. Even if he did cross it, she would just deny him. Even if he tried to embrace all of her pain, she would bottle it up even tighter until he left her alone.

The morning that is the anniversary of her parents' death, she is silent and solemn. She moves lethargically, and unlike usual mornings, she is the last one ready.

Sten is silent. Morrigan remains voiceless. Alistair is the only one who seems bothered by it, really - the two others are perfectly fine to let Aislinn be swallowed up by her misery, and this outrages him.

He doesn't say anything. They merely set out, this time in a dull silence that is void of the usual group chatter.

When they reach their new campsite, and Aislinn is setting up her things, Alistair approaches her.

"I could help," he tells her softly. She doesn't look at him.

"You have your own things to unpack," she replies dismissively, and he gets the feeling she knows exactly what he's talking about but she's not telling him that to his face.

"If you would just tell me-"

"There is nothing to tell, Alistair. Do you think just because you were part of the Chantry, that you were a Templar, you suddenly know everything that's going on? If so, you are sadly mistaken. Now go unpack your things."

There is something decidedly fierce and unsteady in Aislinn's voice, but as she looks at him, her gaze is lacking its usual emerald blaze. Her bite hurts worse than her bark. The rippling undertow of her comment pierces his heart; this is the official shut out. Until now, it had only been an assumption she wouldn't let him in - but now it's a reality, and it _hurts_.

Alistair bites back the urge to respond, knowing she is insulting out of necessity; but that doesn't make it sting any less, and instead he just turns and goes back to where he was unpacking his things. Zevran has been regarding this situation, and Alistair is simply daring the elf to say something, to try and break the tension - but Zevran just walks by, gives Alistair a quick, firm pat on the back, and then leaves to set up his own bed.

Later that night, Aislinn is sitting by the fire when Alistair says, "I'm sorry."

The words were unexpected, but she doesn't look up at him. She just watches the fire and thinks about how stupid she is for pushing Alistair away.

"I shouldn't have intruded," he continues uneasily, eyes flickering between her and the safety of his bed.

"No," she sighs, quietly. "No, you had the right. I wasn't myself. I'm-" Aislinn struggles at this point. "_I'm_ sorry, Alistair. You didn't deserve that."

Now he sits beside her, and they are quiet for a while, sharing the silence.

"But you really can tell me, you know," he murmurs now, low enough only for her to hear. "Even if you don't want to, you can."

"I know."

Aislinn runs her fingers through her hair, and he can see the guilt monster rearing up in her - and for a brief moment, he thinks that she will share the weight of her heart with him, but instead she shuts it back down.

"I appreciate the effort, Alistair," she tells him, softly, and when she looks at him now she appears infinitely tired; he can see the sleepless nights adding up in the depths of her eyes. "But I'm just not... Ready. Or capable. Maybe someday, Alistair, sometime - but not now."

He can tell this is hard for her, so instead of urging her to go further, Alistair just takes her hand and holds it in his, and suddenly that makes her heart a little lighter.


	5. FORWARD

So this is the one I'm way iffy about. u8 Mostly because idk, I'm just a bit out of practice writing romance and I'm still getting a feel for everyone's characters - oh sure, I've played the game, but your character in DA:O doesn't get much of a personality, so I'm sort of shaping this as we go. Apologies in advance!

Now onto the better part of the note: so I included Zevran again because... Because. Just because. Zevran is so full of win that I find myself falling more and more in love with his snarky/charming self the more I write him (and I've only written two little prompts with him)! So you can tell who's going to be a big player in future fics, can't you?

Yeaaah. B)

Btw, is it bad that I can't stop listening to "Pretty Young Thing" every time I start proof-reading/writing this? And the Glee version, to boot? I hope not.

Aaanyway, again F!Cousland/Alistair centric. A lot of these will probably be a little bit centered around them as they're really the only established pairing in these so far. Later I might pair Zevran up with someone (it'll have to be a gay pairing, so future warnings!) or maybe idk someone else, but who knows? It's really going to depend on where I go with these.

Also again can I just say I do not writing sexy!Zevran all that well. In fact my attempt at him flirting really just seems like a school boy flirting but hey whatevs, right? Guess I'll have to brush up on my sexual inneundos before I write him more, because I do that all the time or something.

I do not own Dragon Age. Unfortunately. (Or maybe fortunately, who knows. If I owned it, bad things wouldn't just happen sometimes, they'd happen _all_ the time.)

Rating: T.

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><p>005. FORWARD<p>

_In which Alistair receives lady advice from Zevran._

So this is it. Alistair is sitting with Zevran and really just trying his hardest not to cry; because he never imagined this day would actually happen - the day he allowed himself to take advice from Zevran.

It's not his fault, not really. He's naturally weak against the temptation of somehow getting Aislinn to really notice him; and Zevran just happens to notice when Alistair is looking longingly after his lead.

It happened just that morning. To be precise, it was right after they had set up camp for the day (why does all of the personal stuff happen to go on at camp, where everyone can bear witness?) and Alistair was just _sitting_ there, minding his own business, trying to look inconspicuous as Aislinn was casually peeling her armor off, Maker preserve him. Zevran waltzed over and made himself right at next to Alistair.

"She would be so angry at you if she knew you were watching," he commented casually, and Alistair's face quickly heated up to a dashing rose color, causing the Antivan to break out in hearty laughter.

"I don't know what you're talking about!" was Alistair's flustered reply (thank goodness Aislinn was too busy to notice, or she would have come over and chastised Zevran for harassing him and who knew what would happen then?). Zevran snickered a little more and regarded Alistair curiously.

"Do not think I don't notice the way you look after her!" the elf had chided. "But it makes me wonder why you have not made any move yet?" This was proposed thoughtfully, in a ponderous tone, and Alistair had looked at the ground, clearly embarrassed and not eager to speak about it. Instead, he just muttered awkward words and tried to preserve his dignity, but all failed. Miserably.

"No need to weep, my friend," Zev exclaimed, patting Alistair's back. "If you are just incompetent, it can be easily fixed. Let me offer my services to you."

"I don't think so," Alistair had replied, and at this point it seemed too far gone to really argue it anymore - though he would try, _would_ he!

Zevran just grinned and stood and made his way over to the Warden and said, "Excuse me, Warden, but do you have a map?"

And that's how they got into the mess they are currently in. Alistair is staring as Aislinn looks at Zevran, confused - and then looks at Alistair for any sort of explanation, but Alistair is just as lost as she is. She looks at Zevran, suddenly wary.

"What?" is her intelligent response, and Zevran flashes a winning smile.

"I just keep getting lost in your eyes," he explains mostly humbly, and in an instant Aislinn's cheeks have heated and she returns hastily to what she was doing.

"Sod off, Zev."

"At least empty your pockets, my lovely Warden - you have stolen my heart, and I want it back!"

In an instant Alistair has leaped to his feet and he drags Zevran away from the offended (and slightly flustered) Aislinn, who is muttering to herself incoherently.

"Alright, what the hell, Zev?" Alistair demands, both alarmed and a bit impressed (that Zev didn't get smacked in the face, that is). "I don't understand how - how _seducing _her is supposed to get me enough courage to talk to her!"

Zevran merely laughs. "I was making an example! You have to woo her with your charm, your wit - your looks!" He gives Alistair a once over. "... Well, at least your charm and your wit."

Alistair is too worried that he can't pull off lines with enough charm and wit to notice or act on the insult. Instead, he just scrambles to find a way to explain to Aislinn what exactly is going on, because now she's giving him a funny look and he doesn't want to look like a conspirator or anything like that.

"Oh Maker, she's going to want to know what's going on," he groans. "What am I going to do? This is your fault! If you hadn't - I don't even know - What do I do?"

"Alistair, you need to breathe," Zevran instructs him bluntly. "Inhale, exhale. Very good. Now blink. Blinking would also be good." After a few moments of regaining his usual bodily functions, Alistair is finally calmed down; and Zevran looks back at Aislinn, who is now busying herself with organizing her things. "Listen to me. You are going to go over there."

"I'm going to go over there."

"You're going say, 'Aislinn, I need to talk to you'."

"Going to say I need to talk to her."

"And then you are going to kiss her."

"And then I'm going to - _what_?"

Zevran is very close to smacking the palm of his hand against his forehead, though he is still trapped in Alistair's grip, so that makes it a little more difficult. With a heavy sigh, he explains, "Clearly you lack the ability of seduction - of which I am very fluent in, just so you know - so the best way to go about this is being forward."

Alistair regards him dubiously. "I don't think she likes forward."

"This isn't about what she likes. This is about putting your feelings on the line for her. Have a little romanticism!"

For a moment, Alistair debates telling Zevran that he is absolutely crazy and asking him just what exactly he is smoking for his dinner. Then he thinks, _if I can't do it like Zevran_...

"I believe in you, Alistair," Zevran exclaims, trying to be inspiring. "You are a, uh... Fine young man. Yes, just fine indeed. Why would she not choose you? You are very... nice." He seems to be struggling. Alistair gives him a dry look.

"You couldn't come up with any better adjectives than that?" he asks wanly, and Zevran pushes him away.

"Just go do it already."

So at this point, Alistair musters up whatever courage he has left and marches over to Aislinn, clearing his throat (awkwardly).

"Aislinn, I need to talk to you."

"Hold on a moment, Alistair, I'm busy."

Well, that wasn't quite in the plan. Alistair looks back at Zevran, who makes a motion for him to _keep it going_, so he turns back to Aislinn.

"Um, it's very... Important."

"Would you just-"

"It's _important_, okay?"

Aislinn sighs very heavily - it is the same sigh she uses when someone dares to argue with her - and then stands, brushing her knees off and looking at him, hands now on her hips and a blonde brow arched. It is her 'I am less than impressed with your attitude today, Alistair' face, and he knows it well. Unfortunately, he doesn't give himself much time to look at it, because if he does he'll lose his daring feel - so instead he just leans forward and kisses her, and it's one of the most glorious feelings in the world.

He breaks the kiss after a moment, and he sees her cheeks are rosy and her eyes are wide.

"W-What - _What_-"

"I told you it was important."

Aislinn continues to splutter (quite attractively, Alistair notes). "_W-What_- This is so -"

"Romantic?" Zev offers from the background. "Cleverly produced? You're welcome."

"You were behind this?" Aislinn pretty much squeaks out. Alistair waves a hand in front of her face.

"Um, hello, man with the lips here?"

"Alistair, I'm busy."

"Oh, come on!"

She waves for him to be quiet, continuing her heated discussion for Zevran; and finally Alistair, exasperated with her serious lack of attention span, leans around and kisses her again. This kiss is longer, more drawn-out; and when he's done, Aislinn is wide-eyed and attentive to his words.

"You don't mind that, do you?" he asks, and her blush deepens and she touches her fingers to her lips for a moment. Finally, she rallies up her huffy-puffy prideful exterior and stomps away.

"You are ridiculous!" she exclaims, but somehow, Alistair doesn't really mind all that much.


	6. PROWL

So it's been a while since I've updated! Sorry about that, guys. (: Just been super busy and all that good stuff. So yeah, here's the sixth prompt - Prowl. I wasn't really sure what to do with this for a while, and so I came to the conclusion that the best way to get over prompt blocks is to introduce a new character!

I won't do that every time, I swear. c:

No pairings in this one, really... Potential Zevran x OC, just because I love Zev. Also, sorry it's a bit short. Getting back into the swing of writing and all that.

Anyway, yeaaaah. Reviews & messages are love. They make me want to write more! And I want to say thanks to all who have reviewed so far!

Rating: T.

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><p>Meir follows them with great intent. The Wardens and their <em>posse<em>, he means. He is mostly after the Antivan. Mostly, but not quite.

Zevran has been his target for a while now. Meir intends to kill him - with great gusto, in fact - but he has found himself... fascinated. With the group in general. Rag tag and mismatched though they are, they work together surprisingly well. The Wardens do not demand allegiance, but everyone stays anyway, and this is what Meir is most fascinated by.

The sense of comraderie is something he has never experienced. Assassin's rarely work in groups, you know - mostly solo, silent, in the shadows and rarely noticed. He has learned that working in groups gives room to blame others for your failure, a natural impulsion that happens even if you think you are above it, even if it is not their fault. It still ends up in pointing fingers and playing a game that Meir would most certainly be a loser in.

Letters and notes come from the Crows. They nag - are you done? Is Zevran Aranai dead? Have you killed him?

Meir answers each time; _patience is a virtue._ And that is all he writes, because he refuses to grace the higher ups with anything more. The only reason he can get away with that kind of attitude is because he is good at what he does, sometimes even the best, and they know it so they just wail and gnash their teeth in frustration.

It kind of makes him feel powerful.

Evening approaches once more, and the party stops to set camp. Zevran seems very unusual at the beginning, cocking his head and pausing every now and then as he sets up his own things; and Meir watches from the shadows with great interest now, attention drawn away from the Wardens and the other companions to return to the Antivan if only because he is acting so strangely. But soon enough, the strangeness wears off - and everything is back to normal again, or as "normal" as things can be.

Meir returns to watching the Wardens, then the Qunari, and the apostate; Zevran loses his attention quickly because suddenly Zevran is _bland _and rather a wallflower. Meir doesn't notice, however, when the Antivan leaves camp as silent as a wraith.

He notices the presence behind him, but too late because he is so enraptured with the dynamic of the party; he has let his guard down, and suddenly there is something leather wrapped around his neck, pulling him back and his lungs are closing and he _can't breathe._

"Did the Crows send you?" Zevran's heavy voice muttered in his ear. Meir splutters out something malicious in response, unintelligable because he _fucking can't breathe_, and Zevran lets up a little bit on his leather chokehold to let the primitive noises develop into something more.

"The Crows?" Meir replies as innocently as he can, with a leather strap cutting into his jugular with great ferocity. Zevran gives another sharp tug.

"I think you know what I am talking about," he mutters, his voice a little bit cross and very much not patient with him. Meir just coughs.

"I think you are wrong," Meir answers. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Zevran?" a woman's voice calls. "What are you doing in the brush? We're setting up camp!"

"Ah, just a moment!" Zevran responds, and turns back to Meir. "The Crows. Did they send you? Yes or no?"

"I don't _know _-"

"Zev, you're making Aislinn anxious with your dilly- Oh Maker," he says when he comes upon the scene, and Zevran sighs heavily.

"I did not wish to make a scene," he explains. Alistair looks as if he might flail.

"I think it's a little late for that!"

"Alistair," Zevran presses, "calm yourself. I have it under control."

"Help," Meir says, weakly, and Alistair looks particularly sympathetic.

"Shut up," Zev growls at him. Meir coughs a mangled response, and that is when Aislinn makes her way over.

"Zev, _what's _going on?" she asks, incredulous, and Zevran sighs as if thinking, _this is why I caught him in the brush, so that no one would be asking this question._

After a good amount of arguing, Aislinn said, "Bring him into camp. We're discussing this, Zevran."

Meir is placed by the fireside, where the big fellow - the Qunari, Sten? - stands beside him most threateningly. Meir tries his hardest not to be cheeky.

"If he _is_ from the Crows, then the best thing we could do right now is keep him so that he won't go back to them," Aislinn tells Zevran firmly.

"I have to disagree. The best thing to do would be to kill him. That way he could not send a message at all," the Antivan replies dryly.

"We can't use him if he's dead."

"My dear Warden," he begins, with a great amount of sighing, "I must implore you-"

"You'll implore me _nothing_," Aislinn replies. "I used this same talk on Alistair when you wanted to join up, and here we are." A confident smile comes to her face. "The prowler is bunking with you."


End file.
